Nov/23/11: the breaks inbetween
You don't like people, usually, but when they're gone, you suddenly realize you miss them, these people, most of whom you barely exchange two words a day with. You miss the hubbub that kept the walls alive. You can feel the silence so blatantly that you will only use the women's restroom fifteen minutes away, in a building where the leftover people seem to be hiding; there, you don't run into anybody but you hear machines whirring and keys clacking through doorways amidst the warmth of unloneliness.
You dread going back to your room because you know no sleepy smile is going to greet you when you open the door. The Christmas lights will be off because you unplugged them before you left. There's no anticipation of a brush encounter with the boy next door because he's gone too, since yesterday.
You know they'll all be back in a few days but you're not sure whether to revel in their absence or render yourself unconscious until they're here again, to bother you, say hi to you, check up on you, or to leave you alone.
You dread going back to your room because you know no sleepy smile is going to greet you when you open the door. The Christmas lights will be off because you unplugged them before you left. There's no anticipation of a brush encounter with the boy next door because he's gone too, since yesterday.
You know they'll all be back in a few days but you're not sure whether to revel in their absence or render yourself unconscious until they're here again, to bother you, say hi to you, check up on you, or to leave you alone.
Jul/28/11: untitled
Do I have the right
to ask? time slips. Te quiero
do you feel it too?
to ask? time slips. Te quiero
do you feel it too?
Apr/29/11: everything's a black hole
this is collision
I'm only hoping for a
little collusion
I'm only hoping for a
little collusion
Apr/5/11: How are you feeling today?
Fine.
actually
I'm weak in the elbows from playing all that tetris late at night when the only people playing against me are tetribot anons, i'm swaying from the pressure of trying to feel no pressure, my body is a bubble but i'm defying the laws of physics and agreeing with gravity for once. i might have stepped on more than one snail on my walk back to town, but it was an accident i swear and no one was there to see it, besides. i'm a secret murder. i have murdered no one. but i've severed ties with my insides and denied my own existence.
I'm feeling wonderful, one at fault. i am a fountain bursting with lime-and-dime flavoured wine mixed with the piss of five year-olds and seagull shit and thralls of disappointment. my french is worse than ever and my body is rebelling from all the late night doses of sugar to stay awake doing things i should have done seven hours before. my days and nights are flip-flopped but sometimes they crash together while trying to avoid each other and i sleep well.
what feelings? I've written
TIME
on my hands because my teacher told me to find time on my hands. well, i found it and nothing happened but the time that passed while i was looking for it. so i've been stopping.
actually
I'm weak in the elbows from playing all that tetris late at night when the only people playing against me are tetribot anons, i'm swaying from the pressure of trying to feel no pressure, my body is a bubble but i'm defying the laws of physics and agreeing with gravity for once. i might have stepped on more than one snail on my walk back to town, but it was an accident i swear and no one was there to see it, besides. i'm a secret murder. i have murdered no one. but i've severed ties with my insides and denied my own existence.
I'm feeling wonderful, one at fault. i am a fountain bursting with lime-and-dime flavoured wine mixed with the piss of five year-olds and seagull shit and thralls of disappointment. my french is worse than ever and my body is rebelling from all the late night doses of sugar to stay awake doing things i should have done seven hours before. my days and nights are flip-flopped but sometimes they crash together while trying to avoid each other and i sleep well.
what feelings? I've written
TIME
on my hands because my teacher told me to find time on my hands. well, i found it and nothing happened but the time that passed while i was looking for it. so i've been stopping.
Apr/5/11: she fell in love while dancing
Replacement Hip Bones
graceful like her clavicle
under wrinkled skin
graceful like her clavicle
under wrinkled skin
Apr/1/11: the limits of spilling
the wanting is
(yes)
in my eyes
and I say it all the time
to myself
to the world
but not to you
uncertainty is
(no)
my biggest restraint
and I wear it all the time
around you
(yes)
in my eyes
and I say it all the time
to myself
to the world
but not to you
uncertainty is
(no)
my biggest restraint
and I wear it all the time
around you
Mar/27/11: a short list
- because this break gives me too much time to think about how much of a failure I am. I need a break from break. I want-- need school to bring itself back.
- when Fantasy and Reality are really just planes lying forever parallel to each other and I'm standing with my head up in Plane F but my feet are rooted in Plane R. Just traveling.
- but if I were a tree, my leaves would be feathers. I'd uproot myself and fly to where ever.
- still, this is me, and these are my feelings, and the only person I'd want to keep them is you. This break is driving me insane with free time to think of you, and it's barely started. You haven't even left yet.
- since tomorrow I'll be listening for a plane headed south with you probably on it, I'll stay up as late as possible so we can be night owls together a little while longer. At least, I'll try to.
- it's not like you think. but maybe you're thinking what I'm thinking and I don't know it yet, but I still want you to know what I wish I knew.
- just let me have my Franny moment. Everyone needs one. Everyone's a fake. A phony. "Blurry" crept into my soundtrack but the music was the only thing not lying.
- though yester-morn-noon brought me back to where everything began. But it's only making me depressed. I'd rather not.
- there's almost nothing I could give you, because I'm too proud and insecure to even face myself. And I use 'nothing' because it's such a full word. Nothing.
- well, goodness, I'm merely trying to write something worth reading, but you're flooding me, my words. Look at all this ink I've wasted.
But you're the only thing keeping me writing these days, anyway.
Mar/13/2011: Tethered
I'm aligned to its shadow
ruler-straight at three o'clock
If I lean just one degree forward I can see you
aligned to the sunlight on the other side
If. I don't.
You might be contemplating the same idea
a few feet equidistant to me, and ±one°
I can only wonder, because I stay perpendicular to the pavement
not a millimeter given on any side, peripheral vision directed across the field
Yet my mind (x) is spinning out of orbit, 2pi-x(^exponentially)
craning to see you but barely reaching
Our proximity is increasingly palpable
some centripetal force dragging my conscience back to you
constantly, senses keenly blinded to all but you
Until the whistle intrudes through the thickness, the weight of miles left unsaid
My heart stops, tumbles, tumults into an earthquake of immeasurable magnitude
Kinesthetics tell me I'm more than ready
The shadow cast over me shifts a single degree behind me
The rays of the sun attack mutinously
Your degree of movement is positive
mine, negative; here, our eyes catch
but I can't read yours reading mine reading yours
gravitational balance holds us for one moment more
and the game begins.
ruler-straight at three o'clock
If I lean just one degree forward I can see you
aligned to the sunlight on the other side
If. I don't.
You might be contemplating the same idea
a few feet equidistant to me, and ±one°
I can only wonder, because I stay perpendicular to the pavement
not a millimeter given on any side, peripheral vision directed across the field
Yet my mind (x) is spinning out of orbit, 2pi-x(^exponentially)
craning to see you but barely reaching
Our proximity is increasingly palpable
some centripetal force dragging my conscience back to you
constantly, senses keenly blinded to all but you
Until the whistle intrudes through the thickness, the weight of miles left unsaid
My heart stops, tumbles, tumults into an earthquake of immeasurable magnitude
Kinesthetics tell me I'm more than ready
The shadow cast over me shifts a single degree behind me
The rays of the sun attack mutinously
Your degree of movement is positive
mine, negative; here, our eyes catch
but I can't read yours reading mine reading yours
gravitational balance holds us for one moment more
and the game begins.